Remember Me
by PissyNovelist
Summary: Given the chance, would you reinvent yourself if given a blank slate with a loved one? Many would say yes; as long as they had the knowledge of all the things they love and hate. Doctor Hannibal Lecter is among those people. When Clarice emerges on the other side of trauma with little memory about people she once knew, it is clear he has been given a gift from a divine power.
1. Chapter 1

**Because writing Clarice and Hannibal is my only weakness. This is going to be a long story, so buckle in. This chapter is just to really set this shit up for some serious Hannibal and Clarice shenanigans.**

Squad Alpha, comprised of the most note-worthy agents the force had to offer, pulled themselves together in the back of a cramped van.

Beside the door sat Clarice Starling doing her last minute checklist; a ritual she had started on her first raid and just never gave up. She patted every part of her body; gun, bulletproof vest, ear piece, and tightly tied combat boots. All check. With one hand on the door, she looked to her fellow raid leader; Donald Clarke.

"Ready for the show, Starling?" He asked, a happy go lucky look upon his face.

"I'm always ready," she laughed, turning her attention to the rest of her team ", listen folks. This should go off without a hitch as long as no one makes any rookie mistakes. We've been casing this house for human trafficking for months and we can tell they aren't ready for an FBI raid. Let's get in there and make some good arrests and save those girls." Her tone was strict, as always.

She could have sworn she heard a muffled 'bitch' comment from the back of a van, but she didn't have time for that. If they wanted to call her a bitch for being the best at her job, let them.

"Alright. Charleston, Marion, and Peck, you're at the back door. Shaw, I need you on the west side and Falton on the east. Myself and Clarke will cover the front. Don't forget, we have snipers on two houses out there, so if we have a runner or two, we're covered. On my signal, we storm in the house. Turn your communicators on now and let's get into position." Clarice and Clarke each took a door and flung it open, directing the team down the street.

The two leaders followed down the street, a handful of feet behind their mates, being sure to stay under the protection of the trees. Clarice heard a soft click from beside her and a quick glance proved it was her partner turning off his radio.

"So Starling, if we're done this raid, paper work and all, by five... want to nab a few drinks with me?" Donald Clarke, Clarice's second dearest agent and friend, behind Ardelia of course, asked her with a nudge of his elbow. She clicked off her radio and didn't turn to him while she spoke.

"You already know my policy on that, Don." She smiled.

"I get not wanting to shit where you eat. But really? We work for the FBI, we don't have time for normal dates, let alone civilian dates. Let me treat you to a few drinks, no pressure and no expectations." He prodded. Clarice had to hand it to him, he'd make a great negotiator.

Clarice felt her mind stray into a dark alley; the thirty seconds of every day she reserved just for him. She couldn't allow her thoughts to linger, but she had enough time to think about just how entertained he'd be to have this man asking her out. Quickly, she shoved him away; she could use the remaining twenty three seconds on him later.

"Maybe," she teased ", only if we're done by five." She set her terms and flicked her radio back on. Clarke followed suit, a smug yet sweet smile smeared upon his face.

As the house came into view, they entire team crouched and fled to their positions. Each member individually confirmed their location and that they were ready to go. When everyone checked in, Clarice took a deep breath in.

"On my mark. One... two... three."

The silent and seemingly innocent suburb erupted with the noises of kicked in doors and screaming. The young men, clearly new to the trafficking game, collapsed on the floor immediately. Clarke and two other members of the team stayed to detain them, while Clarice and the rest went to clear the house.

"Four men," Clarke called ", all but one player under surveillance is here. Keep watch."

Clarice took note, conducting her team to the upper floor. They cleared each room with ease, nothing of interest turning up. Once it was cleared to her standards, she took them downstairs. She went first, her gun at the ready.

Her footfalls echoed in the concrete ground and she game face to face with a cage full of girls, none of whom could be over the age of sixteen. They were sweating, cut up, bruised, and crying. As the armoured agents jogged past her, the girls started to scream for help.

"Send them straight to Agent Andrea Marion and Agent Melina Falton. They'll be more comfortable and will open up to fellow women. They should already be waiting in the alleyway beside the house with blankets in van number six." She directed her agents, doing a quick walk around, offering what support she could to the mass of afraid young ladies.

As the basement was starting to really clear out, the deafening silence hit her hard. She couldn't imagine what it was like to be stuck down here, each of those girls just as broken as the last, and while they may have prayed for freedom, they hoped for death.

Clarice shook it off, chalking it up as a victory for the good guys before heading back up stairs behind the last few girls. She barely had on foot on the steps before she heard rustling, coming from the wall just beside the cages. Clarice stopped and stood very still, eyes fixated on the wall and waiting to hear the noise again.

And there it came again; a slight shuffle and then a very quiet cough.

"Clarke, when you have a moment, come to the basement." She spoke through the radio while pulling the holstered gun into her capable hands. She approached the wall the way a cat would approach a mouse; with calculated movements, her eyes unmoving from that damned piece of wall.

When she was close enough, she started pawing at the wall with her left hand. She pressed at every single stone and prodded every bump and groove. To her surprise, one of the blocks actually clicked in.

"People still have secret passage ways. Who knew?" She mumbled to herself, ready to push the door to see who was there. But the assailant beat her to the punch.

A man, who had at least a buck fifty on Clarice, yanked the secret door open. Before she could even think of pulling the trigger, he used his weight and height against her. The man forced his hands against her shoulders, giving her a rough push. His strength alone caused the gun to fly from her hands and she found herself at his whim.

His rough hands forced their way around her neck, Clarice's arms not long enough to swing and hit the man. He slammed her against the opposite wall, her head making a dull thud upon impact. When she opened her eyes after the first wave of assault, her vision was clouded in a milky film. She could see a shaded figure, clearly her attacker, but anything beyond him was a grey blob.

Clarice screamed out, throwing a few fists as she did, in hopes of attracting enough attention that the man would try to run. She heard her attacker growl, and before she knew what was happening, she was picked up and tossed on the floor. Clarice tried to break her fall; the most basic, simple maneuver in the book. Without her sight, she couldn't see how close the ground was.

She hit the floor, her head taking another hit against concrete. She heard Clarke scream _something;_ Clarice knew they were words, but she couldn't put them together. The adrenaline of the whole situation began to fade and the pain that racked her body was too much. Clarice didn't want to sleep, but the pain was beginning to nag away at every nerve in her body. She passed out before she could have another thought.

When she opened her eyes, her vision still had traces of a milky cloud, but at least she could see. Her senses came alive as if someone was holding a gun to their head. She felt the oxygen mask laced across her face, every single needle in her body and every single place they failed to get a vain. She groaned, loudly and unashamed, looking around to get a footing on her surroundings.

A woman in pink kitten scrubs walked through her door, a happy look upon her face.

"Well, it's good to see your up," She gasped happily walking towards Clarice ", can you tell me what your name is, dear? Do you know where you are?" The nurse lifted her lift up to Clarice's eyes, seemingly happy with how they reacted.

"Clarice Starling," her voice was hoarse and dry ", I'm in a hospital. I work for the FBI."

"Very good!" The nurse sang, grabbing a small plastic cup of water from the bedside table. Clarice took slow sips through the straw, a second wind coming over her as soon as the water hit her tongue.

"What happened?"

"You were attacked and your head took quite the beating. There's no permanent damage, but you did manage to get quite a few bruises. When the back of your head was hit, you bruised the part of the brain that focuses on vision, so you might be seeing blurry or cloudy sights for the next week! That'll heal on its own, so don't panic." The nurse took a seat at the foot of her bed, offering a smile that just seemed too big to be real.

"Oh."

"Yeah. I know, being passed out can leave you feeling more drained than ever, but I need to do one quick test with you!"

"That's fine." Clarice took another sip of water, her throat aching with every swallow. The man who attacked her _really_ choked the shit out of her.

"With head trauma like yours, we like to do a little picture test. I want you to look at them and tell me what you see. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Clarice used a weak hand to press the elevate button, lifting herself to see the nurse better.

She showed her a wide array of photographs; an apple, a car, and a cell phone was among them. Clarice knew what everything was with no effort at all. The nurse was pleased as punch, pulling out her final, small stack of photos.

"Alright, the final phase. Tell me who these people are."

First, she was shown a picture of the president. Clarice passed that with ease.

Then, she was shown a picture of a man who she couldn't place. Blonde, sort of handsome, defined features. It was a familiar face, for sure, but the name and any distinguishing features escaped her mind.

"Sorry, I can't place that man." Clarice was honest.

The nurse's happy façade fell in an instant.

"Hm. I see. Interesting… here, take a look at this one."

It was a picture of a blonde woman, with short cropped hair. Her lips were painted red and her eyes were bright green. Again, the face was familiar, but everything else about them was coming up blank.

"No, I don't recognize her either. What's the point of this test?" Clarice prodded, a nervous feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, the two pictures I just showed you," the nurse was grumbling, searching for the right words ", the pictures… well. The _test_ is designed to identify any… _memory issues_ in those who suffered moderate to severe head trauma. The _pictures_ were of Agent Donald Clarke and Agent Gail Peck. They were with you on the raid, in fact, Agent Clarke saved you from any further trauma."

"What does it mean that I can't remember them?" Clarice was green in the face.

"I'm not a doctor, so I can't give you an official diagnosis. But to ease your mind, the symptoms point to trauma induced amnesia."

 **Yeah, we're going a soap opera cliché.**


	2. Chapter 2

Clarice spent a week in the hospital and Donald Clarke visited her every day.

Seeing him was the best part of her time at the hospital. By day two, Clarice had already grown tired of the routine. Breakfast, physio, television, lunch _with Don_ , mental exercises, more physio… it was so monotonous. Clarice was the type of person to be the center of all the action, not looking in from the window.

"When can I go back to work?" Clarice looked to her fellow agent, taking a small spoonful of jello into her mouth.

"They wanted me to tell you so they wouldn't get their asses kicked. They're giving you a full month's paid leave." Donald made a face; Clarice would _not_ be happy about that one.

"Why? I can do my job, I just can't remember everyone I work with. I'm fine. And I'm still going to kick their asses when I get back to work. Maybe I'll kick your ass for complying with them." Clarice huffed.

"Relax, slugger. I know you're fine. But you're practically getting a paid vacation, enjoy yourself for a bit and come back to work."

"And do what? Twiddle my thumbs? Watch the news and see all the criminals I can't catch? You can only watch so much daytime television before you've seen every episode of Jerry Springer, Don."

"You need to relax. You have three cracked ribs, you're bruised all over, and you literally can't remember _anyone_ you've had close contact with in your life. Your body and your brain need to rest. "

"Don't tell me what I need. What I need is to kick ass and take some names." Clarice rolled her eyes.

"Alright, grumpy. In a month, you can do whatever you want. When do you get to go home?"

"Today, sometime before five." Clarice grumbled, still mulling over a whole month of doing nothing.

Donald hung around, helping her through her final round of mental exercises. Donald took liberty of packing all the stuff he brought to her into Clarice's bag, as well as all of her cards given to her by other Agents. Flinging her bag over his shoulder, he tossed the bouquets of bad flowers into the trash. He took the list of her instructions; a set of things to do over the next four weeks and all of her medications.

Donald knew Clarice's smiles and thank you's were genuine, but forced. He knew her well enough to know she despised being pushed around in a wheelchair, being treated as if she couldn't take care of herself. He wasn't sure how to cheer her up, so instead he stayed silent as he pushed Clarice out to his truck, helping her get in.

"So," Donald grinned ", do you remember before the raid? You said I could take you for a few drinks if we were done by five."

"I do not remember the raid. Nice try, but I don't think I can drink for a while." Clarice snorted, looking out the window, watching the hospital fall out of her view.

"No, not now. The last day of your leave, if you're feeling up to it and some of your memories have come back, let me take you out. Or sooner, if you're feeling up to it." He waved his hand, trying to seem casual. Little did Clarice know, his heart was beating out of his chest.

"Maybe," she smiled ", as long as you keep in touch with me. The rest of the old team stopped visiting me on day three… haven't heard anything from them since." She trailed off.

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know… at least, I _think_ I know. I only know information about you that you've told me." She laughed. Donald laughed too, giving her thigh a pat.

"I'll be sure to call you if I have to go out of town for work. I won't abandon you."

They made small talk for the remainder of the drive. Donald told her things about himself and how they interacted with each other. He told her about the other members of the team again, about how he took his coffee. All of those little things her brain was grasping to remember.

He dropped her off at her little house, just outside of town. She had a few neighbours, but she appreciated the silence of being just outside the main city, the mall and grocery store a mere ten minute drive away. Donald stayed awhile, making sure she took her first round of meds and ate something. Clarice parked herself on the couch, the remote tightly in her hand.

"Alright, you've eaten and taken those pills. I'm heading out. I'll call you a little later and let you know about the assignments." He waved before leaving her home. Clarice was left alone with her thoughts and this horrible straight to television movie.

Unknown to her, someone had been watching.

 **xxx**

Doctor Hannibal Lecter was a man who had mastered the art of patience. Even with the help of his beautiful mind and his memory palace, he could wait years for the right time to strike.

 _This_ was not like that.

No, Clarice Starling had an effect on him like no other. With her, he couldn't wait to long, or the window might just close with his fingers in the pane.

When he had heard of the assault, the talk of every newspaper across the world, he flew to Virginia immediately. He recognized how reckless it was of him, but he had to ensure she was alright. Doctor Lecter had full intentions of killing the man who harmed his dearest Clarice and presenting him as a gift, like a cat presenting a mouse to its owner. But as rumors emerged that Clarice had been rendered with little to no memories of people in her life, his game plan changed.

Really, how often is one graced with such an opportunity? The Clarice Starling with full knowledge of what he had done was out to lunch; a brand new Clarice Starling was waiting for him just beyond her front door.

What he hadn't expected was the strapping, blond young man who had driven her home. The way this man touched her shoulders, the way he smiled at _his_ Clarice. He was jealous over her. The only time he ever felt truly jealous was when that little agent was involved. But he knew that, if he could be patient just a moment longer, his time to strike would come.

He watched the man, whose name he had yet to learn, leave with a skip in his step. From down the road, Doctor Lecter made sure he was long gone before pulling up to her home, making sure the bouquet of white roses he has purchased for her was still in perfect condition.

Parking his precious Jaguar, he stepped out of the car, flowers in hand.

For a brief moment, he wasn't proud of himself and what he was about to do. If he didn't know any better, he would have recognized it as remorse. But like the water off a ducks back, he was in motion, approaching her door. For the first time in _countless_ years, he found himself a little nervous.

 **xxx**

Clarice was surprised when she heard the doorbell. Other than Don, no one had cared to regularly visit her. Straightening out her clothing, she opened the door to meet an older man.

"Hello, Agent Starling. It's been forever and a day." He spoke, the slight accent in his voice making him more alluring.

"I'm really sorry, Sir. But-"

"I know, my dear. As soon as someone told me, I came over right away."

"Oh, so we know each other? You look really familiar… you _sound_ really familiar. I'm really sorry, I just can't remember anything else." Clarice seemed too meek in that moment, standing in front of him. It broke his heart to see her shy behind the door, practically begging her brain for some sort of straw to grasp.

"If it helps, we worked together on the Buffalo Bill case; quite closely, may I add. Do you have any knowledge of that case?"

"Buffalo Bill… Buffalo Bill, Buffalo Bill…" She reamed off, looking at the man's feet. He remained patient, watching her search for something samiliar.

"Jame Gumb," Clarice whispered, looking up to the man ", that was the Jame Gumb case, right?"

"You're correct, my dear." He smiled and Clarice smiled back.

"That's the first time I've remembered anything on my own in a week. Come on in!" Her spirits were clearly lifted as she happily stepped aside. He nodded, tipping his hat to her before stepping inside.

"These," he held the roses to Clarice ", are for you."

"Oh, these are beautiful! Thank you… uhm, could I possibly get your name?" She laughed, embarrassed at herself.

"You spent most of our time working together calling me Doctor."

"Just Doctor?" She asked, obviously a little skeptical. She wasn't on full alert yet; Doctor Lecter knew he could evade her with ease.

"Doctor Lecter," he tossed without fixating on it ", but everyone has taken to calling me Doc."

"Alright Doctor, come on in. Want some coffee? Tea?" She smelled the roses as she walked away, clearly satisfied and unalarmed by his answer at all.

"Tea would be incredible, dear."

Doctor Lecter followed her into the recesses of her home, admiring each and every picture on the wall. He savored each sight, taking an inventory for his memory palace. He took a deep breath in, the smell of lavender and vanilla meeting his senses in an instant. It was like inhaling the pure essence of Clarice Starling.

"So, we met through work?" Clarice asked, grabbing a vase from the cupboard.

"Yes. When you were just a young trainee with stars in your eyes, you were sent to me to obtain a profile on Buffalo Bill. We didn't spend nearly enough time together, but we were always friendly." He promised himself before doing this that he would only tell the truth and told the truth he did.

"A co-worker was telling me that the Buffalo Bill case was my big break. We must've been a really good team if that happened." She tossed a happy smile his way, putting a full kettle on a hot burner.

"We were the best." Doctor Lecter smirked.

"Did we just work together the one time, or were there others" she leaned over the counter, a sudden look of worry falling over her face ", I'm sorry! Here you are, bringing me beautiful flowers and I've done nothing but assault you with questions." Clarice threw her hands up in the air, trying to laugh it off. Once again, she found herself being embarrassed by her disability.

"Don't fret, my dear. I'll _always_ answer your questions. After Billy, you grew busy with your job and I traveled about. We met once more a handful of years later for an intimate dinner, to play catch up."

"Oh… well, I was probably unhappy that our time was fleeting, especially if we worked so well together," Clarice shrugged ", where did you travel?"

They spent the next two hours talking over tea. Doctor Lecter divulged all the little details about living in Florence. He told her of the time he spent as a curator, of the delicious specialty pastries. She responded to every little tidbit of information with growing enthusiasm, as if he was the most amazing man on Earth. After a cup or two of tea, Clarice huffed and puffed.

"I didn't mean to keep you so late, Doctor. It feels like it's been forever since someone actually has spoken to me like I'm a real person. Other than my one co-worker, no one else wants to stay and chat." Clarice walked him to the door.

"No, no! I have nowhere else to be, Clarice. I hope you wouldn't find it pushy of me if I ask to come back tomorrow. Perhaps we can spend some time on that memory of yours."

"Well, with an amazing therapist like you around, you probably know what to do!" Clarice shrugged. Honestly, she was thrilled the man wanted to come back. The Good Doctor has answered every single one of her questions without batting an eye, let alone rolling them. He was treating her seriously, unlike the majority of her team.

"I'll come around noon?"

"Perfect, I'll make lunch!"

Doctor Lecter was over the moon. Clarice Starling was enjoying his company, without the gimmick of being Hannibal the Cannibal.

"Perfect," Doctor Lecter smiled ", I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." Clarice shut and locked the door behind him. She chalked today up as a win; she remembered someone's name, she caught up with an old colleague while getting to know them all over again. The best part; he wasn't so bored with her constant questions that he actually wanted to come back.

Clarice was happy, but exhausted. She collapsed on the couch, ready for a long nap.

 **It feels really choppy, to me anyway, but I think that's because I'm just setting the foundation for some sweet Clannibal stuff. I'm so ready.**


	3. Chapter 3

Clarice woke up in the early hours of the morning, the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. She cracked her neck, feeling a tight kink resting just below her hairline from sleeping on the couch.

Clarice lay on her back, not wanting to move. Her brain seemed unhappy to be awake at such an ungodly hour, despite falling asleep to early last night. Other than the odd stretch and yawn, Clarice didn't move until she heard a familiar ring tone emit from her phone. It was Donald's.

"Agent Starling." She yipped through a yawn.

" _Sleepy head, glad to hear you're awake. I tried calling last night, around nine, but I guess you were out."_ Donald clearly had a smile on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. It was just a really long day." She yawned again.

" _Yeah, I get it. I wanted to call you to tell you about the assignments. Turns out the place we were casing in North Carolina just before the last raid got bumped up priority. The team is going down, we'll be spending about a week there, between the raid and booking and shit."_

"Oh, that's a shame. I'm going to miss spending time with you while you're gone."

" _Me too. But, I'll call to check up on you and when I'm bored out of my mind."_

"You sure I can't just come into work? Sneak me in your suitcase?"

" _You and I both know you need this time. Have any big plans?"_ Donald edged; trying to pry into her life. He wanted to make sure there were no unwanted men in his way.

"Uh, well I have lunch today with an old friend from work which should be fun! But I'm just taking my boredom day by day. Anyway, I won't hold you much longer. Be sure to call! Bye."

Donald said his goodbyes and moved on with his day. He assumed the 'old friend' was Ardelia Mapp, considering she didn't have many other friends at all. One thing was for certain, he was more than confident to take her out for those drinks.

 **xxx**

Clarice had a very productive morning and she was very proud of that. She cooked what she considered to be the perfect breakfast, followed by a jog down the back paths of the forest just behind her house, showered, and prepped for lunch with the Good Doctor.

Clarice threw on a pair of dark jeans and a tank top; wanting to be casual, but not wanting to be caught in her pajamas like she was yesterday. After all, she _did_ work with the man. The last thing she needed was an unprofessional image.

She planned a simple lunch made with the items Donald has taken the time to buy for her. She went with a safe kale and apple salad, not wanting to stick her foot in her mouth in the man was a vegetarian. She had felt so embarrassed that she forgot to ask. She heard a gentle knock on the door just as she was putting the finishing touches to her dish.

Clarice opened the door with a big smile and couldn't be happier with the sight she received. There stood Doctor Lecter, in a far more casual outfit than yesterday, with a gorgeous glass container in his large hands.

"I brought dessert." He winked, causing her to laugh as she stepped aside.

"Here, let me take that from you." Clarice offered.

As her hands went to cup the bottom of the glass, her hands brushed his own. Clarice paused as she met with a very rigid scar upon his left hand. She did her best to play it off, acting like she was working to get a better grip, but Doctor Lecter noticed her brief intake of breath when their hands met.

"I see you've met my biggest scar." Doctor Lecter raised his hand slightly, allowing her to get a full view at what she just felt.

The scar was thick and shades darker than the rest of his skin; every few centimeters or so, a few bumps showed through the scar tissue. Whatever had happened, it looked like a fairly clean, calculated slice through the bottom portion of his hand.

"I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't notice yesterday at all and I feel like I crossed some sort of line even touching-"

"It's alright, my dear. You do _need_ to stop worrying so much around me." Doctor Lecter seemed more than happy to laugh it off, both of his hands cupping her shoulders.

"Do you mind me asking… _how_?"

"It was an _accident_ ," Clarice could see his eyes spoke more than his lips but was hesitant to press for more ", but it's no matter, I was once a skilled surgeon. Thanks to some quick thinking and the help from another surgeon in Florence, I have some minimal control over the movements." He demonstrated, all but his pointer finger making it to a half-way curl into his palm.

"I'm sorry, I just feel so awkward now, trying to talk to people." Clarice muttered, a worried look plastered on her features.

"You were never an awkward person. Brash? Yes. Awkward? Never a word I'd used to describe you." Doctor Lecter had to practically lead Clarice from the foyer.

"Yeah, well I knew everyone then, knew what to say and not to say around them." Clarice groaned in frustration with herself, placing the dessert dish into her fridge for safe keeping. When she stood back up, Doctor Lecter was leaning on the counter beside her.

"But you didn't always know those people. You didn't always know _me_. And if there is one thing I can offer you, it's that I'll never penalize you for making the occasional social faux pas. Getting to know people all over again is a daunting, exhausting task and if you are the brave Clarice I know, you'll do just fine."

For the first time in a week, she felt genuinely comfortable. Even Donald took a laugh at her for her recent disability. Clarice wouldn't blame him, it was a weird situation, and she could see how an outsider found it funny. But with Doctor Lecter, she felt completely understood. In theory, she's known this man for two days; but Clarice knew that her connection with this man ran deep.

"So, what did the great Special Agent Clarice Starling make for lunch?" He eyed her up, a smile dancing at his lips.

"Oh! Well, it's just something simple, kale and apple salad. Dates, salt, pepper, olive oil; all that good stuff." Clarice waved her hands before stuffing them in her pockets, a little embarrassed at the meager offering.

"Sounds excellent for lunch. Though I will say, next time we do this, _I'll cook_. Not to be conceited, but I'm an amazing chef." Doctor Lecter talked about, taking his seat at the table while she served lunch and poured a glass of ice water for both of them.

"Oh yeah? Don't make anything too amazing, I don't need you to upstage me." Clarice laughed, taking her own seat.

Lunch went on and, much like yesterday, the time escaped them. In this round, Lecter made the decision to allude to Mischa, just for a brief moment. Clarice, as always, was receptive to what he had to say, nodding and making noises as he seemingly rambled on. He told her a few, select stories from his youth; the beauty he saw in his travels. Doctor Lecter talked about his inclination to the arts. Clarice took a turn, talking about how sweet her good friend Donald has been the past week, offering support in so many ways. But she quickly discarded her own stories to hear more of his.

"Your life sounds… _amazing_. I'd love to travel and see the world like you have." Clarice sighed, cleaning the table to set for dessert.

"There's still time." Doctor Lecter said.

"So," Clarice spoke after a moment of silence ", you've told me everything about you… _again._ How about you tell me what you know about me? Like, how well we really knew each other?"

"Well, I know about your family and the tragic story of your father. I could tell you that your favorite colour is periwinkle. You prefer coffee to tea, but you're not picky when it comes to the bottom line. But, I suppose what _really_ defines our relationship is the fact that you trusted me with your unspoken childhood story."

Clarice stopped at that, turning to the Good Doctor on a dime.

"You know about the lambs?" She whispered.

"I do." Doctor Lecter watched her face for any indication that she had remembered. He saw no signs of that. What he did see was Clarice furrowing her brow and biting her lip, eyes desperately searching for answers in her counter top.

"What was the nature of our relationship, Doctor?" She leaned over the counter, eyes piercing his façade.

"Professional… yet, intimate." He carefully selected those words and it had paid off; Clarice nodded with a 'hm' sound escaping her.

"You mentioned that we didn't work together all that often. We must have had something really special for me to divulge that information." She set out the dessert places and spoons as she spoke.

"Something _special_ … know that I think about it, those are the perfect words to describe us."

An odd moment exchanged between them and neither Clarice of Doctor Lecter was able to place it. They were both unsure about his statement; was it innuendo or no? Was what he just said a possible flirtatious pass? Clarice wondered if there had been something _more_ before she lost her memories of him and Doctor Lecter worried he was leading her in the wrong direction. In the end, they let the moment pass without another word exchanged; _another question for another day._

"So… dessert! Let's talk about what tasty treats you brought me." Clarice laughed; the faded echoes of a flag that's not quite red calling out quickly falling to recesses of her mind.

 **xxx**

The odd happenstance at lunch was already a distant memory, Clarice having savoured every bite of Doctor Lecter's delicious fruit tart dessert.

"So, tell me why I got stuck making lunch, when you got to stroll in here with these perfect tarts and steal my thunder?" She teased, licking the last of the whipped cream off her spoon.

"I told you, I'm a great chef." He threw his hands up in surrender, placing a hand on Clarice's shoulder to keep her sitting while he cleared the table for her. She grinned; Doctor Lecter was one of the few true gentlemen left on this Earth.

A moment of silence suspended between them; Clarice taking a minute to watch him rinse the dishes before placing them in her dishwasher.

"Did you have any plans tomorrow?" Clarice nearly hit herself in the face. The words literally tumbled out of her mouth before her brain could filter them first.

"Miss me already?" He quipped, a laugh emerging through his words.

"Well, you know. With Donald doing work and stuff… you're the only other person I work with who hasn't _completely_ forgotten my existence and you have really interesting stories. I wouldn't mind spending more time with you, if you have the time." Clarice confessed. Had the known the truth about her company, she'd never be so candid. All Clarice knew was that this man was genuinely kind to her and he seemed to like spending time with her too. She couldn't say that about too many people.

"Of course, Clarice. I'd be more than happy to spend another day with you." Doctor Lecter had to restrain himself. His plan; _his tiny, innocent little plan_ had actually worked. Without lying, other than by omission, he had captured her attention. While he was a firm believer that Clarice Starling enjoyed his company, this was proof that it was the complete truth, and not enjoyment out of fear of being branded food.

"Great!" Clarice rested her chin on a loose fist, an un-lifting smile gracing her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yo, the good stuff is coming soon! These chapters here are just to set a baseline for my favorite couple to follow. Plus, I love to write them just talking. It's so domestic and normal and I just think it's great!**

The next day had come along with another few hours with Doctor Lecter. When she heard the doorbell, she hopped up to her feet and practically ran to the door. In Donald's absence, it was so great to have someone who actually seemed interested in her company.

"Hey!" Clarice smiled, stepping aside for her new friend. He came in, dressed to a T in dark slacks and a button up shirt, carrying a very _expensive_ looking bottle of wine.

"Good afternoon, Clarice. I come bearing gifts." Doctor Lecter's smile seemed to genuine to Clarice. She took the wine with a smile, giving the bottle a look over to see what this man with good taste had brought her.

"Every time you come over, you bring something for me! Before you know it, I'll have to buy you gifts to make us even!" Clarice was smiling and laughing as she spoke, but something in her words caused her to stop.

Clarice kept staring at the wine, but her happy smile was gone. She could feel her brain straining to find the connection between her words and her life. The Good Doctor took notice and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Are you having a memory?" His voice was low and soothing; Clarice responding with a simple nod.

"You _buy_ something for someone… buy them a gift in _return._ " Clarice muttered, feeling herself being led through her home by the watchful eyes of Doctor Lecter. He didn't interrupt her or grow short with her; he simply stood there, pouring them two glasses of fine wine into her faux crystal glasses.

"You do stuff in exchange… exchanging _information?_ Getting information in _exchange_ for... more information. Hey," She lifted her eyes to Doctor Lecter ", what's that saying? The fancy saying for exchanging information for information?"

"Quid pro quo." He passed her a wine glass which she took, still looking just beyond him into space.

"Now _why_ does that sound familiar…" Clarice hummed.

"Because we used to play quid pro quo when we worked together." Again, he was honest with her; lying only by omission.

"Oh. How did we play?" Clarice asked, taking a sip of the red wine. She nodded in approval and Doctor Lecter was happy she enjoyed it. They walked out onto the back porch, which faced a thin wooded area.

"You wanted information about Buffalo Bill, I wanted to get to know you. You were so… _uptight_ and sealed off when we first started speaking, I had to get to know you somehow." Doctor Lecter seemed unashamed to admit his little tactic, which made Clarice feel more at ease.

"Nothing sinister behind it, then? You just wanted to know me?" She felt her brain slow the pace down, feeling herself physically relax. Everything seemed so frightening when you can't remember.

"Nothing sinister about it, just wanted to know Clarice Starling."

Clarice was happy with what she uncovered, taking another sip of her wine. Even the smallest memory played a part in her rehabilitation.

"How have you been finding everything, after the accident?" Doctor Lecter asked.

"I'm not really sure. On one hand, no one has come to visit me. I haven't had to get to know anyone again, except for Donald and you. On the other hand, it's terrifying. Everything I know about the people I work with is all… _hearsay_. I have to trust what people tell me about other people."

Clarice looked to the Doctor for a response, but he kept drinking his wine, looking at her.

"It's like… I don't have any base memories of how people have treated me, what people have done to me or others, or _who_ anyone is. So, in return, I don't know how to behave in front of others. How I react when I'm around people is based on who they are. It's standard behaviour, be nice to your friends and ignore the people who aren't your friends. I just don't know who is on my side and who isn't."

"Are you concerned you'll end up being friendly with someone who… _isn't_?" Doctor Lecter used her words, finishing his wine and setting the glass on the patio table.

"Yeah, of course I am. Like I said, everything I know is hearsay. Let's use you for example," Clarice downed her last few sips of wine in one huge gulp, placing her glass beside Doctor Lecter's ", so everything you've told me about work and Florence and your family. Most people wouldn't be horrible enough to lie to someone with memory loss and all those things you've told me are probably true. But there are… people out there who wouldn't waste time taking advantage of me. And I'm at a position where I can't differentiate the two people." Clarice looked off into the woods, watching the leaves dance with the warm breeze.

"Tell me, Clarice. Do you think I'm taking advantage?"

"No, I don't think you are. There are so many factors that tribute to this thing… I don't have cohesive memories. What I have is… snapshots? Snapshots to these memories. When people tell me things that are important about them, I feel a tug in my brain. I'm trying to make the connection, _it always feels like my brain is struggling to make the connection._ It's exhausting."

"So, everything I've we've discussed about the time we've spent together?"

"It's all familiar. Everything about you; the way you speak, the way you hold yourself, and your voice… it's _right_ there. I _know_ , even if it's just in my heart and head right now, that we've had a relationship. I can practically see how we met, but I just can't get there."

"I'm sorry you're so frustrated, Clarice." Doctor Lecter placed his arm around her, in a brazen act he would have never dared to do before. Clarice's reaction was instant, moving herself closer to his body.

Clarice was hugging him and he was unsure of what to do.

He felt like he was in a fever dream. Any moment now, he was going to wake up, staring at that leaking stone ceiling of his little cell. But when he wrapped his arms around her, Doctor Lecter knew this was real. Clarice fit so perfectly in his arms, she seemed to melt there, head resting against his chest.

"You're helping a lot, you know. You were obviously a big part of my life. Having you around has probably done more for my memory than if I was sitting here alone, Doctor." Clarice sighed, her hands gripping the back of his shirt. Doctor Lecter ran one of his large hands up and down Clarice's back, wanting to keep her this close as long as he could.

"Okay, okay, enough with the mushy stuff." Clarice laughed, patting his chest with slender hands.

"Whatever you say," He smiled, his hands still resting on her shoulders ", I say we have another glass of wine."

"Great idea!" Clarice stepped inside and came back with the bottle, pouring themselves a nice, tall glass. They drank until the wine was gone and chit chatted until dinner rolled around. They hung out on the patio, watching the sun slowly fall from the sky. Thankfully it was summer and Clarice knew there was a few more hours of good daylight left.

"I shouldn't take up anymore of your time, my dear. I keep stealing your days away." Doctor Lecter went to stand, but Clarice grabbed his sleeve.

"No, no! It's okay! With no one else coming to see me, I was hoping we could spend more time together." Clarice confessed, giving a shrug.

"Oh, so because you're lonely, you're going to keep me captive?" A wink told her he was just teasing and he sat back down.

"Plus, you've had… _four_ glasses of wine or something like that. We can order some food, watch a movie, and if I'm still wary of your driving, you can just stay the night." Doctor Lecter was impressed by her act of kindness, but not surprised.

"I'd rather cook for you than watch you eat some empty calorie meal."

"Well, you can cook for me another time," she laughed ", seriously. You look like you cook… _super fancy_ food and my kitchen is stocked but boring. Come on, let's just get pizza or Chinese food." Clarice tossed her hand up to him.

When she looked back to him, a look of disgust was plastered on his features.

"What's wrong with pizza?" Clarice asked; genuinely confused.

"It's not my thing."

"Not your _thing_? Everyone likes pizza."

"I do not."

"You're joking."

"No."

"Then you're lying."

"Again, I am not." Doctor Lecter leaned against the counter, knowing he had already won the battle.

"Alright then, if you're going to be so stubborn about it, then we can cook."

"I'll cook," Doctor Lecter waved a hand ", you take a seat."

Clarice watched him move around her kitchen effortlessly, like he knew where everything was. _Did he know where everything was?_ He's been here three times and he's so comfortable. Clarice wondered what the nature of their relationship was before. Doctor Lecter seemed like one type of man, but he was a different one with her. At least, she could only assume. Talking with him takes none of her energy and it's clear that their prior relationship had something to do with how he acts with her…

Clarice heard a snap and she looked up. Doctor Lecter smirked when she came out of her reverie, but he was still patient as ever. He _never_ seemed to be exasperated with her.

"I was asking you about Donald." He said.

"I don't know a lot, except for one or two things he told me."

"Whatever you remember, whatever he's told you, tell me about him." He asked, starting to cook something clearly more intricate than her usual interests.

"Well, apparently we've worked together since I was sworn in as an agent. He was sworn in a year before me, but we became the go to team for anything in the field. He said we've always been friends, which I believe. One thing I know for sure is that he wants to go on a date with me. Donald said he was joking when he said he's been asking me out for two years, but I think he was serious." Clarice rambled on.

"Two years? That's a long time to be told no." Doctor Lecter's back was to her, but there was a hint of something in his voice; _intrigue?_

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But I'm pretty sure he's never been disrespectful about it. I think he asked me out for drinks just before the accident… Don said I told him maybe."

"And does that sound true?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, if he was serious about the two years… there was probably a reason I didn't say yes before."

"Knowing you, it was likely a professional standard."

"Maybe, but there's this mental obstruction. I don't think it was just that." Clarice hummed, watching his back as he sautéed the vegetables.


	5. Chapter 5

**Short chapter because I'm literally the worst. But I typed and typed and just didn't want to put too much where there only needed to be a little.**

The topic of discussion wandered to more interesting, less mentally taxing things. Doctor Lecter asked about her hobbies and vice versa. He wasn't one for small talk, but he could listen to Clarice talk about herself all day long.

About five minutes before he was about to plate, a ring erupted from her phone. It didn't take a long glance to know it was Don's number displayed on her caller ID.

"Oh, that's Don. Do you mind?" Clarice grabbed her phone, waiting for her friend's nod. She received it, with a wave of the hand, and she walked out to the deck, hitting the little green button.

"Hey you. Miss my prowess on the field already?" Clarice laughed, looking in the kitchen window, watching Doctor Lecter cook away.

" _You know it! Please tell me your life is better than mine right now."_

"Oh shit, did something happen?"

" _Ramirez is being a dick. Almost blew the whole operation this morning. Kid's too trigger happy. If he doesn't cool his shit, I'm kicking him out of the van while we're doing one eighty on the highway."_

"Ramirez is the one who was grandfathered in by the head of… some department, right?"

" _Yeah, the Department of Guns and Gangs. No clue why that kid isn't at some desk. Anyway, how about you?"_

"Oh," Clarice turned away from the window, leaning over the railing of the porch ", just having dinner with an old colleague of mine."

" _Anyone I know_?"

"Nah, we worked together years ago… or something along those lines. The details are still a little fuzzy, sometimes information I learn fades away from me." Clarice waved her hand about, even though Donald couldn't see. She was far more animated on the phone, where prying eyes couldn't see.

" _It'll come back to ya, Clarice. Be patient. Hey, you still having that weird feeling? The one the nurse said you'd deal with while working on fixing your brain?"_ Donald was trying to keep the mood light, but watching someone he cared for deeply suffer did nothing for his own morale.

"Yeah, I guess. Even these past few days, I've been feeling more like myself. But losing memories of other people have gotten under my skin. The nurse said as memories came back, I'd feel better. But I've had a total of three recalls in the past few days and I'm exhausted of trying to figure it all out." Clarice rambled on to her closest friend and confidant.

" _Stop stressing. Let your mind relax and more stuff if prone to come back."_

"I appreciate the thought, but telling me to stop stressing is going to make it worse." Clarice snorted.

" _Listen, I forget a lot of things without any good reason. Keep your chin up! It'll come back and it'll be like this never happened."_ Donald sounded so sure that it was all going to turn out okay; like at the end of a sitcom. No matter what happened, at the end of thirty minutes, it was all okay.

"My life isn't Full House, Don. It's more like The Blacklist. Anyway, I'm about to have dinner. Call me when you finish the raid, we can plan a day together."

" _Sounds great, Lizzie Keen,"_ He laughed and so did she _", talk to you soon!"_ He hung up, leaving her alone with Doctor Lecter. Clarice was alright with that. When she slide open her patio door, all of the delicious scents from cooking had melded together into one perfect aroma. She took her place at the table that he had set for her, watching him bring in his final masterpiece.

"I didn't have too much to work with, but this stir fry is quite the improvement from your drawer of takeout menus." Doctor Lecter was proud and he had every right to be. Clarice was impressed with how amazing some rice and vegetables looked on a plate.

"Thanks for taking the time to cook."

"Don't thank me until you've tried it." He winked, pouring her a glass of water.

So she tried it. Never did she consider the ragtag gang of groceries in her home could actually produce something worthwhile.

"You didn't tell me you were a phenomenal chef, Doctor." Clarice looked to the man who sat across from her.

"Why tell you when I can just show you?"

"Yeah? You can show me anytime you feel like it."

"How about next week, Clarice?"

His question had caught her off guard; not for any reason. Clarice recalled, from before the accident, no one asked to go anywhere or do anything with her unless the destination was a bar. It peaked her interest about the Good Doctor more and their relationship prior to all of this.

"Yeah, sounds great." She responded after a moment, more than happy to spend a little more time with her new, old friend.

Over dinner, the chit chatted about just about anything. Doctor Lecter divulged his favorite opera and Clarice revealed never being interested in that stuff. He wasn't surprised and told her so; inspiring Clarice to ask an odd question.

"So, what do I like?"

"This game again? Well," Doctor Lecter seemed more than happy to play this little game ", you like… running. Running, because it makes you feel free and strong. You like guns, in the meaning that you're very skilled with one. You don't mind getting a little dirty in the field; in fact, you prefer it. You like… silly crime dramas, the type they make six different versions of."

Clarice just laughed, giving him a nod. Doctor Lecter had her pegged down to a tee.

"Take an educated guess, young profiler Clarice Starling. Tell _me_ what I like." Doctor Lecter proposed, getting a loud snort in response.

"Uhm, okay. Rude to ask the girl with memory loss," she said in a teasing tone and earned a smile from the Doctor ", okay! You like…the opera, obviously. You like the finer things in life and wouldn't settle for a lifestyle anything less than that. You love world culture, traveling, and seeing all there is to see. You like… pretty women in expensive dresses; the type of women who prefer nude lipstick over red." Clarice tossed whatever came to her mind out on the table, making her point by crunching a perfectly sautéed baby pea.

"Not quite, but pretty close." Doctor Lecter sipped his water, watching Clarice roll her eyes.

"And just _what_ did I get wrong? Because I'm pretty sure that's you in a nutshell."

"Pretty women in expensive dresses? That's not what I find interesting. Plus, red lipstick is far more fun than nude." Clarice noticed that he always tacked on a little joke to the end of something he considered a fact. She enjoyed it; he never let the air get dense between them.

"So, how wrong was I? Pretty women in moderately priced dresses? Short, tall? Correct me, I need to build some memories over here."

"I like women who challenge me. Women who will continue to challenge me. That's far more interesting than any expensive dress and outshines cheap shoes." Doctor Lecter took his final bite, then turned his gaze to Clarice.

She was frozen, much like she had earlier in the hallway; _a memory_. And he could already tell what was coming.

" _Oh my god,_ when we first met, you called my shoes cheap."

"I did."

"Why would you say something so rude?" Clarice was more shocked than offended. Doctor Lecter had been nothing but sweet with her since he showed up on her doorstep.

"Because your shoes were cheap." She shrugged, letting Clarice take her final bite before clearing the table.

"That is so rude, I can't believe that. How did you get from insulting my shoes to cooking me dinner? Like… _really?_ " Clarice was being flamboyant, throwing caution to the wind as she helped him clean. Clarice wouldn't behave this way around Donald, but it just seemed different with the Good Doctor.

"Because, your ability to challenge me _outshined_ those cheap shoes."

Doctor Lecter and Clarice, just for a second, met eyes. Clarice knew this was information to log for later and Doctor Lecter counted on it. It was a moment of an undeniable connection, between two people who had history. She knew, in time, she'd be able to ask him what they were _before_.

But for now, Clarice smirked and brushed his arm with her hand, before turning her attention to the dishes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this took a while! I've actually bene writing the last handful of chapters so I didn't lose any of the ideas I had for them!**

"Are you _sure_ you wanna go home? I have a room for you." Clarice offered, leaning in her front doorway.

Doctor Lecter smiled in return and laughed.

"I appreciate the offer and I'll take you up on it another time. But I need to get started on our dinner as soon as possible to make sure it's perfect. Wednesday, correct?" He asked.

"Wednesday it is, Doctor." She confirmed, counting the days. Only six days until dinner with the Doctor.

"Excellent. I'll be in touch, my dear. Have a good night." He started to walk away, but her palms were itching. There was something nagging at the back of her brain, and if she didn't ask now, she'd be left to wonder for too long.

"Wait!" Clarice called, stopping Doctor Lecter in his tracks. He turned, his long coat swinging around his legs.

"Is dinner a date?" Clarice was nervous but she needed to ask.

"Yes, it is." He nodded and kept walking, keeping his own smile hidden from her.

She nodded at him, giving a wave with her fingers before shutting and locking her door. Clarice leaned against wall connecting the foyer to the main hall, a dopey grin on her face. She was surprised just how excited she was.

Clarice felt that familiar tug when her brain was remembering. It _felt_ like a date with one Doctor Lecter was overdue, but she couldn't say why. Their relationship from before was an enigma. Doctor Lecter was _so_ interesting. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself; mysterious and only laying his cards down one by one, when it suited him.

Especially that little snippet about him being of interest to her. Clarice couldn't put her finger on why, but it felt right. I didn't feel like jumping into the deep end; as if it was something that was always supposed to be. Clarice kept repeating that, _it is meant to be_ , as she got ready for bed.

It wasn't _completely_ impossible that she would have gone on a date or two with the Good Doctor. He was handsome, for sure. He was also very sweet to her, kind, and could spin a golden meal from barely anything. Sure, he was older, but Clarice knew more experience made for more fun. _It feels like it is meant to be…_

That night, she dreamt only of happy things and not once heard the screaming of a young lamb.

 **xxx**

Doctor Lecter used took advantage of the darkness, using a road a little more open to get to his hotel. A fedora covering the most important features of his face, he nodded to the young lady at the counter; obviously still in high school but still working the late shift, but chipper none the less.

He took the stairs to the fifth floor, the key card in his good hand, letting himself into his room.

Doctor Lecter was stumped. What _exactly_ would he bring her for their dinner; _their date_. He hadn't expected his Clarice to ask him if it was a date. He hadn't planned on _making_ it a date, but he couldn't resist when she asked.

He knew he couldn't serve Clarice his preferred protein, especially since what he was doing was already despicable enough. Using the notepad and pen left upon his bedside table, he wrote down a rough menu and took inventory of what he would need.

When he settled in for some rest, he thought about her. Doctor Lecter hoped she hadn't been dreaming of the lambs and perhaps dreaming of him. Since meeting her, when he had the chance to really sleep, he _always_ dreamt of Clarice.

But he would have to settle for thinking about her. Staying in the law enforcement capital didn't do much for his nerves, no matter how sure he was of his personal protection.

 **xxx**

Waking up early in the morning, Clarice prepared herself for her routine. She passed on the shower and ate a good breakfast, dressing for a jog in the backwoods. Before heading out, she stretched in the backyard, getting nice and limber for her work out.

"Lookin' good, Starling!" A man whistled behind her. Clarice just laughed; the voice belonged to someone she knew.

"Don, you're back?" She turned and jogged towards him, giving him a bear hug. Donald laughed, lifting her off the ground.

"Yeah. We managed to get all the shit done last night. Just got off the plane an hour or so ago, but I didn't want to wait to see ya." He smiled, setting her back upon the ground.

"I really wish I coulda went, Don. I feel myself getting stagnant here."

"Oh, come on. You said you were hanging out with an old bud of yours. It can't be so bad." Donald said, still under the impression that it was Ardelia or another colleague he knew.

"Yeah, yeah… it's good to have people to spend time with, but I still need to get back to work. So, did you want to grab a coffee or something?"

"Nah, I'll be headed home for some well needed rest and I don't want to keep you from your run."

"Whatever suits you, but you gotta come over soon. We'll have some drinks and stuff." Clarice crossed her arms and smiled.

" _Now_ you're the one to ask me on a date, Starling?" Donald raised an eyebrow.

Clarice felt torn. Her date with Doctor Lecter was a more exciting thought than a date with Donald. On the other hand, hurting the feelings of a good friend wasn't high on her to do list. On the third, mutated hand, Clarice didn't want to cause any jealousy. Donald wasn't that type of guy, but it would do more harm than good to tell him about her date.

"Don, I don't think I'm ready for that." Clarice felt horrible, but an indirect truth seemed like the best truth. A white lie can't hurt too bad in the end.

"That's okay, Clarice. Don't look so miserable." He played it cool, but Clarice could see the glimmer of disappointment in his expression.

"Okay." She whispered with a smile, giving him one more hug.

"Alright, I'll call you later. Maybe I can come over for a few drinks then."

"Sounds good!"

The two parted ways, Clarice heading off into the forest trails and Donald to his care.

 **xxx**

No, Donald _wasn't_ happy Clarice was avoiding his advances, but he couldn't stay mad. Clarice was perfect to him, but he respected her more than anything.

He's mind strayed as he drove away from her home to Clarice, spending so much time cooped up in her home. Sure, she had Ardelia, or so he thought, but it wasn't enough for one person.

Donald stopped at the store on his way home, to pick up some beer for later. Crossing the length of the store, a stack of newspapers caught his eye.

Clarice Starling; Dazed and Confused

 _Earlier this week, Special Agent Clarice Starling was attacked during a routine bust._

 _A private source reviled the nature of her condition;_

' _She was struck in the head and it left her with little to no memories of the people she knew in her life. It's unfortunate and uncertain whether her memory will return. But everyone is hopeful.'_

Donald bought the paper along with a case of beer and sat in his truck. He read the whole article before furrowing his brow. He wasn't happy that the public had this information about her, but there are more sinister people out there who would love this information.

"No… no, she'd tell me. She'd tell me…" Donald mumbled to himself, setting the paper in the passenger seat and driving home.


	7. Chapter 7

The week seemed to drone by. Donald never did come over for the drinks he so desperately wanted to have. He was called to run another urgent raid in Vegas; a sex trafficking ring connected to the one they had taken out just a few weeks prior.

Clarice made sure to spend lots of time with him over the phone, carving out an hour or so per day to see what was going on. She never mentioned a word of Doctor Lecter and her date and Donald never mentioned his rising suspicion that Hannibal the Cannibal had already been in contact with her. Their talks remained small; about the weather, work, cute girls he saw at the local bars in between shifts. It kept Clarice grounded, helped her feel like a normal person.

Clarice had a few flashes of memories, but nothing to write home about. Just a handful of things about her team; sexual orientation, favorite drinks, why they started working at the FBI. All the standard things you get to know about a person.

She had only heard from Doctor Lecter once, on Monday, to confirm their _date_. Together, they worked out the fine details. He agreed to bring the mean to her and Clarice promised to clean. Doctor Lecter laughed and wished her well until Wednesday, but not before telling her to where the black dress he had bought her.

With that came another memory, just a snippet of a long dinner table with Doctor Lecter cooking something tableside and her sitting in a gorgeous black dress. She knew the dress he was talking about without having to look at her closet.

Today was Wednesday. Clarice couldn't have felt more awkward; standing there in her gorgeous shoes and dress he had bought her. Her house was sparking clean and the table was set only with a white table cloth, upon the Doctor's instruction. She paced, slowly, holding onto the counter for balance; her Armani shoes a little too tall for her taste.

The doorbell rang; Clarice took a deep breath before moving herself forward, walking with a poised confidence she didn't think she possessed. She greeted Doctor Lecter with a nervous smile, stepping aside for him to enter her home, a bag in each of his hands.

"Good evening, my dear." Doctor Lecter's voice was silky smooth. If he was nervous, he was masking it very well. He leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on Clarice's cheek before effortlessly navigating her home. He unpacked his bags and started where he had left off, setting the table with long white candles and beautiful fine china.

"Can I help with anything?" Clarice finally peeped up, having gotten her fill of watching Doctor Lecter in his natural habitat.

"No, no. Don't worry about this, you just sit down and I'll pour you some wine." He waved her off with a confident smile, taking two wine glasses from his expertly packed bags. Placing them on the table, he poured a red wine; the label on the bottle in a language Clarice couldn't even begin to comprehend. She didn't ask questions, figuring the Doctor would know best, and took a small sip.

"This wine is almost as amazing as that suit." Clarice smiled, giving a compliment in her own awkward way.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Clarice." She could tell Doctor Lecter was smiling, even with his back to her as he worked on their meal. She couldn't help but notice how he drawled out her name; as if his tongue was caressing each syllable, _savouring it_.

When he presented her with a cut a red meat, cooked to perfection with a pink in the center, she could barely stop her mouth from watering. Clarice had already picked up on the fact that he did everything with a flare. Doctor Lecter never cooked anything without flare, never wore anything he couldn't take off with a flourish. He was graceful, even in the way he sat across from her, watching Clarice take the first few bites.

"Enjoying it so far?" He asked.

"Yes, this is _so good_." Clarice hummed, taking a spoonful of chickpea salad.

Through dinner, their small talk formed into something a little more serious. Clarice was more than happy to be forthcoming with information, but took note that he was very short in some of his answers. Clarice considered it odd; he was the one that knew everything about her. But the look on his face when she let her words get away from her was nothing short of endearing, so she humored him and kept talking away.

"My, my, Clarice. I seem to be learning new things about you with every meeting we have." Doctor Lecter smiled, resting his hand upon her own for a moment, before topping off her glass.

"I wish I could say the same about you." She lifted her glass as a sign of thanks, then pulled it to her lips and took a small sip.

"I'm an open book, my dear."

"Have any family?" Clarice prodded, setting her utensils on her plate. Doctor Lecter started to clear the table as he answered her.

"Unfortunately, my family is no longer with me. But my mother was very loving; taught me how to be a fine young man. My father was stern, but was an ample example of how to behave. My sister is a constant reminder of how to be compassionate. Even though she isn't here with me, she continues to push me forward, telling me to live and love with reckless abandon."

Clarice was floored with his sudden honesty, absorbing each fact like a sponge. She watched Doctor Lecter glide around her kitchen, wiping down the counters and pulling a small sized chocolate mousse cake from her fridge.

"I'm sorry… if that struck a nerve, Doctor." Clarice was embarrassed. Of course the first question she asked would revolve around his dead family.

"No, no nerve struck. We've only spoken about this once before, at our last dinner party." He laughed lightly, caring over a perfectly plated piece of cake. The smell of chocolate hit hr nose long before he was back to the table; her stomach somehow starving for more after the most amazing meal she had ever had in her life.

He took her dessert spoon, taking a small bite from the peak of the cake.

"Open." He said.

She opened her mouth just enough, feeling Doctor Lecter's fingers dance along her jawline, placing the spoon in her mouth. Clarice took the bite, a small, involuntary moan escaping her as soon as the treat her tongue. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel Doctor Lecter staring at her; taking it all in.

Seeing Clarice Starling so vulnerable to his commands, his touch, and his food… it was almost too much to handle. Doctor Lecter saw nothing but beauty incarnate when he so much as glanced in her direction.

"I want to tell you how good this is, but I really want more first." Clarice looked up to him with her gorgeous doe eyes and he was vanquished. He handed her the spoon and sat across from her, continuing to watch her with each bite. He picked away at his own dessert, but nothing was sweeter than watching her melt over his cooking.

"Where did you learn to cook and bake like this?" Clarice sighed, taking another bite.

"My mother helped the ball to roll, I picked up the rest through experiments."

They slipped back into their little conversation; completely effortless in their interaction. Clarice felt at ease with Doctor Lecter, as if her memory hadn't been lost. He noticed that and planned to capitalize that soon enough. Once they were finished, he cleared and cleaned the table, taking their wine out to the back patio.

"So… _seeing as this was a date,_ how was I for company?" Clarice sheepishly asked, placing her wine just on the deck railing, looking up at the moon and stars that were effortlessly painted across the sky.

"I wouldn't ask to spend another day with anyone else." Doctor Lecter raised his glass, Clarice doing the same to toast to a successful night. He snuggled in next to her, taking a moment to enjoy the night sky before switching he eyes back onto Clarice.

"You said we had a dinner party before… what _that_ a date?" Clarice asked.

"No, we never went on anything official." Doctor Lecter tossed back.

"Well… then why does this feel so... _so…_ "

"So _what_ , Clarice?" Doctor Lecter turned to her, curiosity painted on his face. He knew what she was about to say; but it meant nothing without the words.

"So why does this feel… _normal?_ " She finished, on hand on her wine glass, the other tucking itself around Doctor Lecter.

"I always had a hunch, my dear Clarice, that there were sparks between us. We never had the chance to act on them." She confided, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Why not?"

"We were never free at the same time."

Clarice offered a timid smile, tossing back the last little gulp of her wine to give her the little boost she needed. Clarice stood a little taller, wrapping her now free arm tightly around Doctor Lecter. He did the same, his large form encasing her in his warmth on this chilly summer night. Her Armani heels gave Clarice the extra height she needed, looking into Doctor Lecter's eyes in search of hesitance or deceit. She saw nothing but her own reflection in his dark, _strongly coloured_ eyes.

Clarice leaned forward, placing a very shy kiss against his lips. Doctor Lecter was gentle with her, despite all of his senses telling him otherwise. He kissed her back with as much strength as Clarice, being sure never to overpower her; his hands falling just at her hips. It didn't take long for Clarice to acclimate, the feeling of electricity shooting between their lips not fading, and pushing herself on him a little more.

Clarice pulled Doctor Lecter towards her, pulling his weight against her as she forced herself against the deck railing. Her little moans and smiling lips left Doctor Lecter breathless, his own perfectly created exterior crumbling. His hands slide along her back, the low cut of the dress leaving nothing but skin on skin contact. She was hot to the touch, her groans pushing him to become a little more daring, letting his fingertips toy with the material keeping her form hidden from him.

With each passionate kiss they shared, Clarice gave him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, much like a signature. Her lips were everything he imagined them to be; soft, inviting, and talented against his own. Even the way their noses fell, the most awkward part of any kiss (as Clarice would insist), met perfectly beside each other. There was no awkward moment; clacking of teeth, a misplaced hand, or a sloppy kiss. Clarice couldn't help but realize that it really _was_ meant to be.

Clarice moved her hands to his chest, pushing aside his jacket and toying with his buttons.

"We shouldn't." Doctor Lecter stumbled over his words for the first time in years, his hands still keeping her close.

"Why? What did I do?" Clarice was obviously offended and out of breath, looking up to him with glassy eyes that reflected the moon.

"Nothing, don't be upset," he whispered, kissing her again ", I wouldn't feel right about it. With you medical condition, all the wine… I can't take advantage of you."

"I didn't have that much to drink and I know enough about you to-"

"If that's all true, you'll want to next time." Again, he reassured her with a kiss. Clarice groaned and rested her head on his chest, dramatically huffing and puffing. Doctor Lecter laughed, holding her close until she began to shiver.

"Let's go inside. I'll even let you pick the movie."


	8. Chapter 8

The movie Clarice had selected was doing its job; playing softly in the background.

It didn't take much convincing to get the Good Doctor on his back, letting his hands gingerly caress every part of her body he felt safe to put his hands on. Clarice straddled him, the weight of her body resting against his thighs didn't seem to bother him.

Clarice's kisses were tender and strategically placed; every so often, her lips would stray down his neck. Doctor Lecter allowed himself to be caught up in the juvenile act _just for a moment._ At least, that's what he told himself… _just another five minutes._ Yet, five minutes would pass and Clarice would do something else to keep him entranced. For the first time in years, Doctor Lecter did not have a clear mind.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Clarice whispered into his ear just before trailing kisses down his jawline.

"If I stay much longer, I may prove myself to be less of a gentleman than I have proved myself to be." He laughed a true laugh, and despite Clarice's pout, she laughed too.

"How could I have resisted you before? We never went on even _one_ date?"

"Not even once." Doctor Lecter shook his head, most of his brain working to keep his hands modestly on her hips.

"I suppose I should let you go then." She whispered once more, her long eyelashes batting, as if to beckon him to stay.

"You're quite the temptress," he lifted his head, taking in the scent of her neck before placing one final kiss on the tender flesh ", but I suppose you should."

"Okay." Clarice huffed in defeat ", so when can we do this again?"

"When would you like to, my dear?" He asked, pulling on his suit jacket that had been tossed over the top of the couch.

"Tomorrow." Clarice stated. It wasn't a request.

"Tomorrow it is. I won't be able to create something so lavish on such short notice."

"The lavish food isn't why I want to see you tomorrow. I just like spending time with you. If it's not obvious, I _like_ you." Once again, another statement. This was the closest to the true Clarice Doctor Lecter had seen since her accident. Not so much in her words, but how headstrong she was. How unashamed she was.

Doctor Lecter smiled at Clarice, who was gently toying with the fabric of her dress. He walked over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"I'll call you in the morning. Don't forget to drink lots of water before taking your medications, just to flush the wine out of your system. Doctor's orders." He winked. Clarice stood and walked him to her foyer.

"Good night." Clarice hummed, running her hands down the length of his suit jacket.

"Good night, my dear."

They shared one final kiss, not too short, but sweet. Doctor Lecter finally pulled himself away and walked to his car, a small smirk smeared upon his face.

He felt like a young boy having won the big stuffed bear at the fair. Clarice was the prize, and after a very long game, he had won. He had already set up a room in his memory place just for her; the way she kissed, the scent that radiated off of her when she was aroused, and the best part of all… the way she _looked_ at him. It was a look of lust, wonder, and romance. Clarice, in her state, was so vulnerable to these feelings…

For a moment, he felt a flicker of guilt. On paper, it looked like he had taken advantage of her. Doctor Lecter, of course, didn't see it that way. He only took advantage of the situation, but the flirting, the kisses, the desperation for more… that was all her own doing. Clarice Starling made the choice to initiate the romantic side of their relationship, due to the connection she felt to lost memories. She had fallen for him, subconsciously, and with that thought the guilt faded away.

He promised to himself he would correct her memory soon enough. He had seen countless patients with the same ailment; twenty minutes with him and she'd be remembering it all. Not only her past and friends, but what has seemed to immediately blossomed between them too.

Doctor Lecter went back to his hotel with nothing but happy thought's flooding his very organized mind.

Clarice, on the same spectrum, had ditched the dress as soon as he left. She collapsed on the couch and flicked to whatever late night trash that was on television. She couldn't stop thinking about Doctor Lecter. The way he touched her was so gentle, as if she was a pet bunny. Doctor Lecter was attentive, and had he been willing to go a little further, she was certain he could deliver.

With a tall glass of water and her pills, she went to sleep and had nothing but happy dreams.

 **xxx**

The morning came around and Doctor Lecter had kept his promise. He called Clarice, making sure a hangover hadn't taken her and that she had taken her pills. Time seemed to escape the pair, as they talked for an hour about the day's plans. Doctor Lecter had promised he'd be there no later than one in the afternoon, as he had some quick errands to run. Clarice had no issues with that and agreed.

Not long after they hung up, Donald's number displayed on her screen.

"Hey Don! Havin' fun?" Clarice laughed.

" _Way less fun than you're having, trust me_." Donald huffed, clearly irritated.

"Whoa, what happened?"

" _Staked out all night and the bust didn't even happen. One of the rookies fucked up on the streets and the gang was tipped off that we were here. But that wouldn't have been so bad… but I was worried about you."_ Donald rambled, not allowing Clarice to get in a word edge wise.

"Worried… _about me?_ Why? I'm just sitting at home and eating food."

" _Well, just before I left for this raid, I got the paper. You know, the news about your accident has broken into the media circuit_."

"So, who cares about me? I'm just a regular agent. It was probably a slow news week." Clarice laughed, not seeing the issues Donald was clearly pointing at.

" _That's the thing Clarice… you're not. You're someone special... to the media, you're like a… uh, a_ beacon." Donald grumbled. She was so frustrated, not being able to see his face didn't even give her a chance to guess what he was hinting at.

"A beacon? What the hell… special how, Don?" She was starting to worry.

" _You don't remember… wow, you don't even remember_ him _?_ "

"Him? Him who? Can you just stop being to cryptic and give me some straight answers?" Clarice bit at her lip, now pacing her kitchen floor.

" _I need you to be honest with me, Clarice. Have you been visited by an older man? If you have, he probably didn't even give you his real name… but Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Have you been visited by Doctor Hannibal Lecter_?" The urgency in his voice put Clarice on edge, but she knew there was more than one way to play this game.

"No, no old men have come to see me, Don. Doctor Hannibal Lecter doesn't even ring a bell in my mind. But he sounds important… can you tell me about him?"


	9. Chapter 9

"None of that makes any sense. _Hannibal the Cannibal?_ That's distasteful and ridiculous. There is no way there's a person out there who would-"

" _He would, Clarice. He did it for years before we caught him. It is very important that if you're approached by him, that you stay away. Keep yourself safe. Shoot him before he can even say hello."_

"Donald, that's savage."

" _Google him, Clarice! I'm not making this shit up. He has a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to what he did._ "

"Okay, I will. I just don't understand why you're so stressed out over this."

" _Because he's obsessed with you. I'm serious, Clarice. Look him up. You'll see news articles about him… about you with him. You were the face of the Tattler for months after Memphis. Everyone thought you were in love."_

Clarice went to speak, but paused.

 _People will think we're in love._

The memory was quick, but it was Doctor Lecter's voice. That was undeniable. Clarice shook it off. The Good Doctor had made mention of their obvious chemistry while working together. It was probably just a silly joke. She had probably laughed, along with him, before diving back into the Buffalo Bill casefile.

"Okay, Donald. I'll do some research on the guy. And I'll be sure to call you if anyone who fits the description of Doctor Lecter even passes me on the street."

" _Okay… that makes me feel better. Sorry for being an abrasive ass about this."_

"Don't worry about it, and don't worry about me either. Talk to you soon?"

Clarice and Donald parted ways and she immediately grabbed her laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. Clarice still wasn't convinced, despite everything Don had told her, that Doctor Hannibal Lecter was a bad man. She typed the familiar name into the search bar.

Thousands of results loaded on the screen; the Wikipedia page right at the top. Clarice furrowed her brow, uneasy, but somehow sure that he was simply a revered Doctor in his field.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter… yadda yadda yadda," Clarice hummed to herself, skimming the wall of text ", and _number one_ on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list… what the _fuck._ "

Clarice quickly fell into the internet hole, reading every piece of information she could find on her beloved more-than friend.

It started with the F.B.I. informational website. It only listed preliminary information; dangerous, do not approach, call 9-1-1 immediately, do not attempt to capture. Once the good sources had been picked through, she typed ' _Doctor Lecter, Clarice Starling_ ' into the search bar. Pages upon pages of news articles, all created by the Tattler, were presented before her.

Clarice's slightly uneasy feeling had turned into a pit in her stomach. However, despite all she had read, not a single memory had made itself available.

She kept divulging into the clickbait-esk articles. **Clarice 'Death Angel' Starling** only made brief mention of hers and the Doctor's relationship in the first blurb; _Clarice Starling, an F.B.I. agent made famous due to her involvement with Hannibal the Cannibal…_ that made Clarice ponder. By now, it was already clear that this wasn't a joke Don had made in poor taste. But this was something different.

She went further back into the archives of the website; **Hannibal the Cannibal's New Slab of Meat** was clearly from when she first met him. Clarice felt her stomach turn over as she read down the article, sure she would puke any second. _According to an inside source, Hannibal the Cannibal was granted a new visitor today. A lovely, up and coming F.B.I. trainee was admitted into the hospital under visitor status to allegedly get information on the recent new serial killer; Buffalo Bill. We, at the Tattler, are very concerned for the agent in training. After the tragic happening with the Cannibal's latest nurse, all parties involved must know that she will get eaten alive; both metaphorically and literally._

 _See the link below for the real CCTV footage of Hannibal the Cannibal's attack of the nurse!_

Clarice wasn't sure what made her feel worse; the fact that he had attacked a nurse or the sensationalism of the event via this website. But once again, the clickbait worked. She scrolled and clicked the link, pressing the play button on the video with a shaking hand.

It was very clearly Doctor Lecter and he was very clearly biting the face off of the nurse.

That sight alone did it. Clarice ran to her bathroom and heaved, the force forcing her onto her knees. She forced herself back on her feet and brushed her teeth, knowing she had to keep looking. No memories had come back and she _had_ to keep searching. Clarice had to remember what happened.

With a sore stomach and a weak mind, she shuffled back to her laptop and clicked one more news article. **Beauty and the Beast; Clarice and the Cannibal**.

 _Despite the F.B.I.'s best efforts, The Tattler has come to possess the information that Hannibal the Cannibal has been moved to Memphis in connection to the Buffalo Bill case. His involvement, his aid, or his transfer isn't the story we're focusing on today._

 _The F.B.I. trainee, who we have recently uncovered as Clarice Starling, has visited the cannibal once again. Thanks to an anonymous source, we have some details about what occurred between the pair on the fifth floor of the Tennessee Courthouse._

' _People will say we're in love', Hannibal the Cannibal was quoted saying. We are told Clarice did not respond to his comment. However, the cannibal himself may be right. Hannibal the Cannibal has refused company before, especially those who he met once and was exhausted with. Since Will Graham, a returning visitor of Hannibal the Cannibal has been unheard of. It would be a lie to say that Clarice Starling is an unattractive woman._

 _In the past, Clarice Starling's name has shown up on visitor logs of Baltimore State Hospital very late at night. It could have been a break in the case, but it could also be a social visit. Perhaps Clarice Starling is simply using her assets to get information. Perhaps Clarice Starling sees beauty in the beast._

 _Ladies, would you travel miles to see a man solely for business purposes? Cast your vote in the poll below._

Clarice gasped comically, stumbling back from her laptop. Her hands flew to her mouth and she doubled over, a wave of nausea flooding every sense she had.

Everything had come back at once. A floodgate had burst as memories flowed directly into her brain. Clarice felt like she was dying, seeing so much of her life flash before her eyes. Their first meeting, their second late night rendezvous, being able to smell her skin cream and her blood… the way his finger gently brushed hers as he gave her the case file. All those memories, and everything about her life, exploded in blinding flashes in her mind.

Suddenly, she felt a surge of energy rock her. Clarice grabbed a dirty glass from the sink, and with a feral scream, she pitched it at the wall. It felt good, so she kept destroying meaningless things. She slammed her fists against the counter, she punched a hole in her wall, and kept slamming doors with all her might; all while yelling profanities to the emptiness of her home.

As quickly as her temper tantrum has started, it was over. Clarice sat on the kitchen floor, back to the fridge and surrounded in glass and ceramic. For the first time in a long time, Clarice sobbed like a child. She was broken, hurt and betrayed.

What concerned her was the feeling of betrayal did not come from the Doctor Lecter she had come to know since her memory loss, but from the Doctor Lecter she knew before. Clarice always thought there had been an understanding between them; an unstable but safe relationship.

In simple terms, she had been betrayed but the one person she expected would never betray her.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been an hour since her grim realization. Clarice stood at her counter for almost the entire time, pieces of glass long cleaned up, leaving her to her whiskey. She watched the birds fly beyond the window, wishing to be one of them. A bird in flight, with dependence on exhaustion, food supply, and merciless gravity… to be so free is a gift granted to so few.

Clarice felt disgusted with herself. No matter how hard she wished, she couldn't forget the time Doctor Lecter had spent with her. He offered her comfort and focused all of his energy making sure she didn't feel alone. Clarice owed him for all he had done for her. All of those feelings of exposure, care, and trust still stood in her soul. He hadn't lied to her about anything he had said; Doctor Lecter answered all of her questions with the truth. Clarice knew he had still lied, by omission of course, but he had answered her straight every time. She just didn't ask the right questions.

She tossed back her fourth Jack and Coke, the warmth already spreading through her body. Clarice was on a mission to forget all over again. In her buzzed haze, she genuinely thought about running head first into a wall and try to re-stimulate the trauma he had caused. She could forget, maybe live in ignorant bliss _with him_.

That dirty feeling crept back up her spine.

Doctor Lecter didn't make her do anything. Clarice wished she could blame all of this on him, but she was in deep. She was torn between everything she knew about him and all she had learned in this small window of time.

Doctor Lecter never forced her hand. It was all her own doing.

Clarice was ready to cry, but she held it back. If she could push through it, this whole shit storm would make her stronger. She'd be a better person, _a better agent,_ having gone through this mistake.

The part of her, the one who embodied all that had happened with her memory loss, kept pulling at her brain stem. That small part of herself was crying at her. _Was she really thinking she could go back to work? It would never be normal, ever again._ Could she really walk up to her office and see herself in the window's reflection; play make pretend that she hadn't let herself fall for Doctor Lecter?

Could she live with being known as the Devil's Wife?

"My dear, the door was open. I hope you don't mind." Doctor Lecter called from the foyer.

If the grip on her glass was any tighter, it would've shattered in her palm. Clarice felt herself become engulfed in a sudden wave of rage. She locked that annoying, small part of her away in a dark dungeon and left her to starve. When she heard his footsteps behind her, and his hand fall to her shoulder, she snapped.

Clarice turned around and punched Doctor Lecter square in the jaw.

He stumbled back, not too far, his right hand grasping onto the counter. His left hand cradled his face, blood slowly seeping between his fingers from his _very_ broken nose.

"I see you've remembered." His voice was nasal and that pissed her off more. Clarice took another swing to hit him on the other side, but he was smart enough to evade her. Doctor Lecter's bloody hand left his face to aid him in pinning Clarice. He gripped both of her arms, as gentle as he could without losing the fight, not wanting to hurt her. He pushed her up against the wall, using his weight to keep her pinned. Her head made impact, and while she didn't lose her memory, her nose started to bleed.

"I understand you're angry and I'm more than happy to let you hurt me in return. But we should talk before you render me unable." Doctor Lecter growled, fighting to keep that animalistic instinct at bay. He _couldn't_ snap at her, he _couldn't_ scare her, and he _couldn't_ be mad at her. Clarice's rage would pass, even if it meant holding her for hours.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you." Clarice was off the handle and she could feel herself losing control of herself. It was the closest to blacking out she had been since Jame Gumb's dark basement.

But there was no time to focus on staying here. Clarice stomped on Doctor Lecter's foot with her heel, making sure he stumbled back. She used his moment of weakness and drove a knee into his ribs. He released his grip on her and fell back onto the counter, both hands gripping onto the granite, using the leverage to throw himself at her. Clarice evaded, running through the main hallway, aiming for her bedroom. If she could just get her gun… she'd shoot five clips into his corpse.

Just before her feet hit the stairs, she feels two strong arms encase her. Clarice screamed and struggled, trying to twist out of the Doctor's grip. Trying to get proper footing, Clarice felt her ankle pop out and then back in. She could hardly feel the pain shooting up her leg, still hell bent on killing Doctor Lecter.

"I'm not going to _fight_ you, Clarice." Doctor Lecter's voice was even and calm; fueling the fire within her to its final crescendo. Before he had a chance to lift her, Clarice forced herself to walk backwards, toppling them both to the ground. While he was caught off guard, she mounted him, driving her fists into his face with full force. Doctor Lecter let Clarice hurt him, arms lying dormant by his side. His vision was blurred, but he could tell Clarice was becoming more upset with each crippling punch.

By the fifth hit, Clarice was sobbing. She collapsed next to him, hands rubbing at her face, simply smearing around the blood still dripping from her nose.

" _How could you?"_ Clarice whispered, rolling so her back was towards him, curling up on her carpeted living room floor. Her body was shaking and her sobs were anything but quiet.

"I saw an opportunity." Doctor Lecter said, a slur clearly lacing his voice.

Doctor Lecter wasn't sure of how long her sobs lasted; he wasn't able to read the clock when he raised his head to look. But he felt more pain from each of her cries than any of his cuts and bruises. Of all the things he wanted, he never wanted to be the source of her pain.

Her sobs died down and finally led to silence. Clarice had rolled onto her back once more, still not ready to look at the damage she had caused.

"Of… _all_ the things you've done. All the people you harmed, all the people you _ate_. All of the horrible comments and torture you put people through… I can honestly say that _this_ was the most disgusting. You're a horrible fucking person." Clarice's voice was monotone, much like his own. He chalked it up to shock and adrenaline.

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

"The feelings I have for you have a tendency to take control."

"That's no excuse." Her reply was immediate and cut through him like a knife.

"I know."

Then, Doctor Lecter was surprised. Clarice's hand, just her pinky finger, hooked onto his own pinky finger. No words were exchanged; nothing needed to be said. They just kept lying there, the energy from the fight dying along with the daylight. The orange glow of dusk set, seeping through her windows, leaving her to look at the odd shapes upon her ceiling.

"Are you okay?" Doctor Lecter asked.

"Yeah. How about you?"

"Possibly concussed. Interested to see just how deep the indents from your fists are. Mostly worried about you, Clarice."

"Why? No need to be worried about me." Clarice laughed weakly and so did he.

"Because I've harmed you. I took advantage of you. I don't want you to think of me like this for the rest of your life."

"You did harm me and took advantage of me," Clarice sighed, looking at a diamond shaped shadow on the ceiling ", but you did a lot of other things too when you were hurting me. I had a real friend and good promises of a little more than that. I got to know you, away from everything that I already knew… it was amazing to know you beyond the glass."

"I'm pleased you feel that way. I feel the same."

"So. What now?" Clarice asked.

"That's entirely up to you, my dear."

Clarice didn't say anything more. She turned, both admiring and cringing at the damage she had inflicted. His face was already bruising and his bottom lip was split. He was sure to have one swollen black eye and another black eye that wasn't so bad. One this was for sure; Doctor Lecter's blood was staining her carpet, dripping down the sides of his face in a constant stream.

She stood and offered her hand, balancing on her good foot while she pulled him up. They used each other for support, walking through her home as if nothing had happened. Nabbing her first aid kit from the bathroom along the way, Clarice sat Doctor Lecter down and fixed up his wounds to the best of her ability and he did the same. For a while, they sat out on the deck; Clarice had convinced him to drink some Jack and Coke with her.

"Clarice?" Doctor Lecter asked. He was feeling brave, four drinks settling in his stomach combined with the blood loss made his grip on control come loose.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Clarice, I-"

"Don't say it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because once you say it, so will I… and then we're both in too deep to turn back." Clarice whispered, gulping her drink and pouring another.

"Clarice?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Those words never came lightly to either of them, but saying it to each other felt right. Sitting there on her porch, flakes of dried, copper blood flaking off both their faces… it felt normal, of all things.

 **And there you have it! I've had this ending written for months. I hope you enjoyed this little story and hopefully you'll take a chance on the Clannibal stories I write in the future!**


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